Explore "The Pilgrim Kamanita" by Karl Gjellerup on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As a matter of fact, they did not again visit the inhospitable shores of the heavenly Gunga. Often, however, they turned their flight toward the valley of the malachite rocks. Reposing under the mighty crown of the Coral Tree, they breathed that perfume of perfumes which streamed from the crimson blossoms, and, in the depths of their memory, there was opened up to them the vista of their former lives -- life preceding life in some strangely appointed order, back into the far-distant past.
Sometimes in palaces, sometimes in huts, they saw themselves again, but whether robed in silk and muslin, or clad in the coarse fabrics of the village loom, the mutual love was ever there. At one time, it was crowned with the happiness of their union, at another, separation due to life's destiny, or to death, was their sad lot, but, happy or unhappy, the love remained the same.